


Of Wandwork, Gelatin, and a Whole Lot of Galleons

by Corey5268, eldiantrash



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (side springles), AU, Alive Marco Bott, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Grotesquely American for a story set in Scotland, Jean and sasha as best buds, Jean likes to hide in small places, M/M, Marco has a Jpop obsession, Marco makes fun of Jean for basically being a cat, Scottish Marco, St Mungo's Hospital, springles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2293436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corey5268/pseuds/Corey5268, https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldiantrash/pseuds/eldiantrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sasha and Connie tried to help Jean when a bludger knocked him off his broomstick, they really did.  And it's the thought that counts, right?  Even if they did land him several weeks in the Hospital Wing for making his injuries worse?  It's probably a good idea that a really patient and really freckled Healer trainee is there to mediate.  And to keep Jean company.  Actually...they'd probably be pretty cute together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Wandwork, Gelatin, and a Whole Lot of Galleons

**Author's Note:**

> The Wizarding World, much like the Muggle World, has made great strides in technology since the Battle of Hogwarts in 1996. The wizards has adopted their own version of the World Wide Web (or the “Mugglenet”) called the World Wide Wizarding Web, or 4W for short.  
> 4W has many sites that are unavailable to Muggles, such as the International Database of Spells and Charms (IDoSaC, pronounced Eye-Doe-Sack), Wizard Magic Dating (Where Sparks Fly), Quidditch Portal (fantasy Quidditch and match scores), and Woogle (Wizarding Google, which is actually run by the Google corporation. Many websites run by major muggle companies have wizarding branches).  
> Muggle sites such as Facebook, Google, and Twitter are blocked at Hogwarts (but accessible on the 4w elsewhere). Anyone who tries to access a Muggle site or an inappropriate Wizarding site will be met with loud sirens coming from their laptop, attracting the attention of everyone in the school so they can laugh at you. There’s a magic filter on the 4w at Hogwarts that understands the intent of the student. It might block a certain website for one student, and allow another onto it (or let the student on at a different time).

 

“Go Connie!” Sasha screamed, the left half of her face painted in deep maroon and gold. The other half was painted in green and silver. She turned towards the Slytherin Keeper. Her ponytail and her Hufflepuff scarf bounced as she shrieked until her throat began to feel sore. “Go Jean!”

Number 34 glided up to the center hoop, cracking his knuckles and staring out at the field. This match was versus Gryffindor - the first of the season. Jean had been waiting all summer for this face-off. Him versus Jaeger.

The sudden shrill cry of a whistle rang against his eardrums, and Jean’s blood got just a little bit hotter, and began to course through his veins just a little bit faster. His eyes narrowed, and everything else began to fade from his mind. Tuesday’s Herbology test, Sasha on the sidelines (screaming louder than the rest of the stadium), and his occasionally-distracting crush on the Gryffindor seeker melted away. He pushed everything to the back of his mind and focused all of his energy on protecting the hoops.

The game got off to an explosive start - beaters were flying through the air at insane speeds, and the Seekers were flying aimlessly as they tried to find any sign of the ever-elusive Snitch.  Gryffindor’s Seeker, Mikasa Ackerman was a calm and collected seeker whose agility and straightforward thinking had her flying circles around her opponents, but Annie Leonhart, Slytherin’s seeker had a cool nonchalance and raw power about her that would make for an interesting race for the snitch.

Eren, Connie, and Mylius swerved around the pitch and worked the quaffle steadily towards Slytherin’s end of the pitch as Jean tracked the ball’s every movement.  When within range of the goalposts, Eren made a last minute pass to Connie, who had just executed a graceful corkscrew to dodge an oncoming bludger.  Jean rushed towards the center, ready to defend. He stared Connie down, silently urging him to come forward.   _Throw the quaffle. It’s not going to make it through the hoop._  With a smirk, Connie turned his broom upside down and swung his body like a pendulum for momentum.  At the height of his arc, he tossed the quaffle into the hoop to Jean’s right.  Jean raced towards it and reached out his hand. Jean felt the quaffle rebound off of his hand, but it didn’t really register as much as the sharp pain he suddenly felt in his side, causing him to cry out in agony. _Fucking bludgers_. He felt the bitter autumn wind bite at his skin as he fell through the air. He struggled to find his broom through his blurred vision, but his hands were empty.

Jean fell to the ground with a sharp _crack_ , and he felt as if he had splattered all over the pitch like a rotten fruit. His eyes were clenched shut, primarily because he didn’t want to open them and be forced to survey the damage done by the bludger. He was immobilized in complete darkness, unable to move even his fingertips. He tried to combat the intense pain he felt all over his body - specifically that godawful feeling in his abdomen - in order to zero in on the voices that were frantically screaming.

“Jean! Jean, are you alright?” It was Sasha, desperately gasping. “Say something!”

He opened his mouth to say _anything_ , but instead gritted his teeth, nearly grinding them into powder as a flash of pain shot through his jaw.  The grinding only made it worse, but it was a reflex that he couldn’t resist.

“He broke his arms.” A monotonous yet collected voice observed. That was Annie. “Look at them.”

“Don’t worry!” Connie triumphantly chimed in. _No, no, don’t do it, Connie_. “I can fix ‘em! Let me see!”

Jean’s heart dropped to his stomach. _No, no, no, Connie, no you fucking can’t._ Jean tried to scream, but his voice failed him. He felt the skin on his arms twist and stretch. His eyes were clenched shut in a poor attempt to hold back tears. His closed fists opened to scratch and claw at the grass beneath him.

“Fuck off, you’re making it worse!” _I’ll be damned. Jaeger is the voice of reason_. Eren sighed, and his voice began to sound more and more distant. “He’s having trouble breathing too. He probably smashed his ribs. I’ll go find my Dad--”

“Connie, you did the spell wrong! Here, I’ll show you. I’ll fix his arm.” _SASHA, WHAT THE FUCK? NO, YOU CAN’T._  Besides his own frantic screaming and a handful of disgusted gasps, Jean couldn’t decipher much of what happened next.

“Aw, heck...” Sasha sounded mildly annoyed. “That’s no good--oh, _ew_!” _Oh fuck. Sasha?_

All he could remember was a hot pain rushing from his ribs down towards his spine. Jean could almost feel the gravity of the planet as the weight of his skin and flesh pressed him into the ground. Ymir’s voice went in and out of his head as Jean fell victim to the darkness that was beginning to encompass him. “Nice going…-tato girl!...arm...out!”

Jean’s mind began to flood with memories of picking apples from the tree in the backyard. The late summer sun peeked through the leaves, illuminating the dew that freckled the cardinal apples that swayed in the morning breeze. He hopped up to the tall branches, snapping the fruits from the branches and putting them into his mother’s worn wicker basket. After it was filled to the brim, he would relay it to the kitchen as fast a young kid could. Jean could see flour wafting in the sun filtering through the window, the familiar smell of cinnamon and nutmeg hitting him like a ton of bricks—

 

_Or a bludger to the gut._

 

Jean set the basket on top of the countertop and gawked at his mother as she crimped the edges of an apple pie. “ _Maman_ , I got you more apples!”

 

She caught eye of the basket and gave an exasperated but understanding sigh. “Oh, Jeanbo.   _Another_ basket?”

 

“ _Oui_.” He blushed, and bit his lip.

 

“And what is this one for?” She picked up the basket by its handle, examining a crimson apple with a soft smile on her face.

 

“Apple pie!”

 

“Oh, Jean boy.” She laughed into her hand, giving herself a beard of flour. “I guess can make two.”

 

 

Jean fought his eyes open – the only part of his body he could move besides his mouth. He was lying on his back, slightly propped up by what he assumed were a couple of pillows.  He couldn’t really feel them.  If he rolled his eyes around, he could see a little bit of the room around him.  It was blurry because he wasn’t wearing his glasses or contact lenses, but he could make out some details. In front of him was a white wall with the head of another bed pushed against it.  At the foot of his own bed there was nothing but a simple wooden table. He squinted at it. A lump shaped like a pie sat on top, cloaked by a checkered cloth. That could only be from his mom. One of her handcrafted apple pies. It was surrounded by a plethora of candy –which Jean could recognize glasses or not– including a bouquet of jelly slugs and a stack of Chocolate Frogs. It was the ultimate tease: a mountain of sweets that he couldn’t even reach for. Jean felt like he should be able to recognize his surroundings, but he was so disoriented that nothing was really processing. He croaked out,

“Why can’t I move?”  There was no answer so he tried calling out again.

“What is this place?” Still only silence.  Jean’s breathing sped up a little bit.  He wished he could leave, move, control any part of his body besides his face.

“Where is everyone?” This time, Jean heard some kind of clinking noises from what sounded to be another room.  It was like a glass or a pan being set down. He repeated himself, shouting, “Where am I? Where the fuck _is_ everyone?”

From somewhere to his left he heard a door creak open, and footsteps coming closer on the linoleum flooring. No rush, no urgency, just tap tap tap tap tap tap silence.

“Um...you’re shouting in French.  I’d like to help you, but I can’t understand what you’re saying.”  Said a soft voice from somewhere just outside of his peripheral vision.  Jean only blinked.  Mostly because that’s all he _could_ really do, but it’s probably what he would have done regardless.

“Desol- er, sorry.  I didn’t...ugh.  First language. Now, uh, where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital wing. You took a pretty nasty fall during the quidditch match.  I’m not going to explain the rest until you’ve calmed down a little. It’ll only make you angry, and you’re already there without my help.  I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Fair enough.  If I’m in the hospital wing, then where’s Healer Jaeger? Did he go to protect his fucking son? That little bastard. He probably pushed me off my broom.”

“Healer Jaeger went to eat lunch.  Eren had nothing to do with your fall. He was about to catch  the quaffle to score while you were on the other side of the goalposts, but he saw you falling and tried to catch you instead. He actually broke a finger trying to grab you. He got pretty close, but you were going too fast and your robes snagged on his finger.” Jean at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“I guess I’ll have to thank him. He’s not awful _all the time_.  So if Healer Jaeger is at lunch, who are you?”

“I’m a 7th year in the St. Mungo’s internship program.”  Jean would have whistled if he had the energy and fine motor control to do so.

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Thank you.  I should probably move into your line of sight so you can see who you’re talking to.  You won’t be able to turn your head for a few more days, and we can’t prop you up more than this quite yet.”

“I think you made a good call in not telling me what happened.  Something happened after I fell then?”

“Mhm.”

“So if it wasn’t Jaeger that did this, who was it?”  Marco hesitated.

“No...it was your friends.  Sasha and Connie? They didn’t cause your fall, but, uh, they made your injuries worse. You got knocked off your broom by a bludger.”  Jean groaned.

“If those idiots were involved, then I sure as fucking hell don’t want to know yet.”

“No, you really don’t.  

A human-shaped blob appeared in Jean’s field of view, and stopped near the foot of his bed.  “This might be weird to ask, but would you mind coming a little closer?  My contact lenses vanish if I fall asleep with them in for more than a few minutes, and I don’t have my glasses on. I can’t see much of your face. You look kinda like a corpse, actually. The details in your eyes have all blurred together. It just looks like empty sockets.”

“No, I don’t mind.  About how far can you see details?”

“A foot?”

“Okay. Just so you know, I’m going to have to brace myself over you so that you can see me. If you don’t mind me being a bit unprofessional, that is.”

“That’s fine.”  Jean replied.

A pale arm planted on the other side of Jean’s bed, and the bedsprings groaned as the intern put his weight on it. It took his eyes a few seconds to focus, but once they did Jean could see every freckle on his healer’s face in high definition.

“Hi,” the healer chirped. “I’m Marco. Sorry about the proximity.  If I just leaned over, you wouldn’t be able to see my face right side up.”

“It’s no problem. It’s nice to know who I’m talking to. I’m Jean.”  Marco chuckled and moved away from his face.

“I know. That’s part of the job.” Marco busied himself with something involving clanging bottles and opening and closing doors.  Jean wondered exactly what he was doing. Not being able to turn his head was more frustrating than he would have thought. Maybe he hurt his neck?

“Marco?”

“Mmm?” Marco hummed absentmindedly while, judging by the sound, still doing something healer-y with glass bottles.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Mixing your medicine. Being a healer does involve an effort on our part too...oh, shoot.” Marco groaned.

“What?”

“I just ran out of one of the potions.  I have to mix a second dose in an hour or so to, uh, give you after this other medicine. The one I’m making now has to be mixed pretty far in advance.”

“You’re avoiding telling me what happened really carefully.”

“Yes?” Marco prompted, like he was expecting some sort of accusation.

“I didn’t really have anything to say after that. So where does one get the other potion? Don’t you guys have a cupboard or something with all of the potions?”

“Yes.” Jean got the impression that Marco was rolling his eyes. “But like I said, we’re out. I have to go brew more. It’ll only take about half an hour. I’ll only be in the next room over with my cauldron.  If there is an emergency, just yell. _Only_ if it’s an emergency.  If I don’t have this ready in the next hour, your healing could take up to an extra week.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll yell over to check on you a few times, just to be sure.  If you’ve calmed down by the time I get back, I’ll tell you what happened to you.”

“Deal.” Marco laughed again, and ruffled Jean’s hair before he left.  Had his head not been the only part of his body that he could actually feel, Jean probably would have been a bit irritated.

As soon as the door to the supply room tapped the doorframe (not completely shut so that Marco could hear him), his nose started to itch. It got worse and worse as the minutes ticked by.  Soon he couldn’t focus on his own thoughts, or the uncomfortable hospital bed, or the Mecca of candy that stood in front of him. All he could focus on was that _fucking itch_. He tried pulling his arm towards his face to relieve the irritation at the tip of his nose, but to no avail. He glanced over at his right arm, neatly placed in a white sling that hung from the ceiling. _Okay, Jean. So you’re gonna be one arm short for a little while._

He then tried to pry up his left arm, only to find that his left arm was also in a matching sling. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

He began to frantically flare his nostrils trying to stop the itch. It helped a little, but the nuisance still remained. He opened his mouth to call for Marco, until he remembered Marco’s strict ‘ _only for emergencies_!’ rule. Damn. He didn’t want to spend an extra week in the hospital wing.   _Would it be weird to ask him to scratch my nose when he gets back?_ Jean gave it approximately three seconds of thought before coming to the conclusion: _Yes, that would be super fucking weird._

After an eternity of waiting –which, in reality, was about five minutes– Marco’s voice called from the next room.

“Jean! Everything okay?” For a moment, Jean debated lying and holding onto his pride.  He was too far gone to care though.

“No! My nose itches so fucking badly that I think it’s going to explode!”

“Jean, your nose will _not_ explode if it itches,” Marco called back. “There are very few creatures that could make that happen, and none of them live anywhere near Hogwarts.  Have you been to Lesotho recently?”

“No.”

“Sri Lanka?”

“Nope.”

“South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands?”

“Did you just make that up?”

“I’ll take that as a no.  You should be fine.”

“ _Marco!_ ”

“Do you want to be here for an extra week?”

“No.”

“Then you can wait another 20 minutes.”

“You’re killing me.”

“Trying to do the opposite.”

“Fuck you!”

“At least buy me dinner first.” Jean sighed dramatically in reply.

“Damn it. Fine, you win. I’ll shut up. Just know that I’m suffering, and that you’re failing in your job as a healer by prolonging it.”

“I think I can live with the guilt.”

The next 25 minutes were spent by Jean shouting things about how guilty Marco should feel, and Marco matching Jean’s wit with impressive comebacks. Jean’s nose gradually became less itchy, but he was too amused to care.

“You know, my ghost is going to haunt you when I die.  My itchy nose is going to kill me, and you’ll have to deal with me following you around for the rest of your life. All because you didn’t do anything.  You’ll be reminded of your failure every single day.”  Marco laughed at Jean’s latest comment, but didn’t reply.  Jean could hear something bubbling and some liquid being poured.  A few seconds later, he heard the door open again.  Marco walked back to his workstation.  Jean heard some crunching noises before Marco came to his bedside again.

“Done.  The potion is on ice now.  Want me to scratch your nose?”  Jean’s eyes widened, and Marco laughed before scratching the tip of Jean’s nose.  Jean groaned in relief.

“ _Oh my god._ You’re the best.  Is that potion shaken or stirred?” Marco removed his hand from Jean’s face.

“What?”

“You’ve never seen James Bond?”

“Uh, no.  My mom isn’t a big action movie fan, and my dad doesn’t care much about muggle movies.”

“That makes sense.  I grew up in the muggle world.  Suppose that I’m a muggleborn.”

“You suppose?”

“My dad died when I was four, and my grandparents died before I showed any sign of having magic.  Either they were all waiting to tell my mum, or I’m a muggleborn.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s cool. It happened a long time ago.  I vaguely remember my dad showing me magic when nobody else was around, but my mum thought it was my imagination.”

“Maybe it wasn’t.  You can try to find some records of him sometime.”

“I’ve tried.  Nothing is listed about him beyond some birth records and stuff.”

“Did you try using the mugglenet, or did you use the 4w?”  Jean stared at the ceiling in silence for a moment.

“I never even thought of looking him up on the 4w.”

“You’re a sixth year, right? It really didn’t occur to you?”

“Shut up. When I can use my hands again, I’ll take a look. And while we’re on the topic, can you tell me why I can’t use my hands?”

“On a scale of one to ten, if one is ‘I could fall asleep,’ and ten is ‘I’m about to kill someone,’ how calm are you?”  Jean considered for a moment.

“A four?”

“What’s your baseline?”

“...Six?”

“Okay, calm enough then. I already mentioned that you got knocked off of your broom by a bludger, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So from what I’ve heard, when you hit the ground, you broke about half of your bones and had some internal bleeding. You had a couple of broken ribs, and a broken jaw when you came in here. I fixed those while you were asleep.”

“How the fuck did Sasha and Connie manage to make that worse? And if I had a broken jaw and ribs, why are my arms and legs in slings?” Jean was genuinely impressed on some level. _How bad could you fuck up?_

“I’m getting to that.  Sasha and Connie ran out onto the pitch before anyone else could get there.  They were worried, remember that.”

“ _I’m_ getting worried.”

“So they ran over and saw that you had broken both arms and both legs.  They...panicked. For the record, you also tore a muscle in your neck, which is partially why you can’t turn your head.”

“Partially?” Marco took a deep breath and closed his eyes before continuing with his explanation.

“So Connie apparently knows some basic healing spells that he tried to use to either stop the bleeding or to set your bone. I couldn’t quite tell which he was trying to do.  I think he messed up because she was nervous, but he kind of messed up part of your skeletal system.”

“Explain.”

“Connie accidentally turned some of your bones into gelatin.”

“What?”

“Connie accidentally transfigured some of your bones into gelatin.”

“ _What the fuck_? How did he manage that?” Jean heard a rustling of fabric that he assumed was Marco shrugging.

“Not sure.  But he did it.”

“Wait. You said Connie _and_ Sasha.  If Connie turned my bones to gelatin, what the fuck did Sasha do?”

“Sasha...tried to transfigure your bones back.  She turned your arms inside out. The muscles were on the outside and the skin was surrounding your gelatin bones.  The spell was probably related to the knee-reversal hex.”  Jean nearly choked.  Marco rushed over to monitor Jean while he coughed up a lung.  He fussed and poked at Jean until the coughing stopped.  When Jean could breathe almost normally, he managed to wheeze, “I’m going to kill them.”

“If you still want to kill them when you can move your head again, I can give you something to dissolve their bodies.  Nobody will ever have to know it was you.” Marco’s laugh was infectious, and Jean found himself smiling brightly along with him.

“Thanks, man.  I think we’ll get along well.  How long am I going to be here, by the way?”

“At least another two weeks? Maybe three? And then you have recovery time.  You’re going to have to relearn how to move.  Your muscles might be a little confused, so to speak.”  Marco picked up a clipboard at the foot of Jean’s bed and rifled through the pages. “We already healed the bones that were only broken.  The potion I was making earlier was part of a mixture that should cause the internal layer of skin to melt. That’ll take a few days. We’ve started cleaning the gelatin out of your body, so that should be done by tonight. We’ll start giving you skele-gro soon, and gradually increase your dose as your skin starts growing back.  This first medicine is actually going to start that process.”

Marco poured his original mixture into a small glass.  He handed it to Jean, who only responded with a look of “ _Are you fucking kidding me, Freckles?_ ”  Marco put the glass up to Jean’s lips, blushing with embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry.  Open your mouth.”  Jean obliged, and Marco poured the potion into his mouth.  Jean swallowed. _Funny._

“Tasted like pineapple. I didn’t expect that.”  Jean said after a moment.  Marco chuckled.

“Just wait until you have to take the Skele-gro tonight.  It’s not nearly that pleasant.”

****  
  


Jean got confirmation of that later that evening.  Marco was beginning to clean up the hospital wing before going back to his dorm.  Jean figured he had about another 20 minutes of Marco’s company.  He took advantage of it.

“Hey. Before you go,” Jean started, trying to lift his head before giving up, letting it fall back on the pillow. “Can you bring me over a Chocolate Frog?”

Marco sighed with a soft smile. “Sure.”

He reached over to the table and grabbed a box. However, his look of sympathy turned to confusion as he put it down to grab another. “What’s wrong with that one?”

“It was empty.” He grabbed the second, only to immediately put it back down. Jean fumed, “That one, too?!”

Marco grabbed another, and his sunny smile returned once more. “Third time’s the charm, I guess. Oh! And you’ve got mail.”

He brought the frog over and put it on Jean’s bedside, along with an envelope and the empty boxes. Marco opened the boxes and took out two pentagonal cards. “Ooh! Uric the Oddball and Morgan le Fay.”

“Eh.” Jean would’ve shrugged if he had the energy or muscle control. He hadn’t kept a Chocolate Frog card in years. Suddenly, he wondered where his collection from his first year went. ”What does the letter say?”

Marco tore the envelope apart and took out a piece of parchment. He cleared his throat and began, _“Dear Jean, you were sleeping when me and Connie came over. Didn’t want to wake you. We’ll visit you tomorrow, okay? Also, I’m dreadfully sorry for eating the chocolate frogs. I’ll head to Honeydukes for compensation ASAP, I promise. Get well soon, Sasha.”_

Jean stared at the ceiling in disbelief. “She apologized for eating my fucking frogs, but not for fucking up my arms?!”

“At least she said she’d compensate.”

“My fucking bones are _broken to bits_ and she eats all my goddamn candy.”

“You don’t _have_ any broken bones left…”

Jean choked on the lump that made a sudden appearance in his throat. God, he missed having a full skeletal structure. “Th-That’s not the point! Bitch ate my frogs. She ate all of _my_ _fucking. Chocolate. Frogs_. Now I’m really going to kill her.”

“She didn’t eat _all_ of them! Connie had one too!”

“Not what I meant, _Marco._ ”

“She left you a couple!”

“You’re a fucking optimist, aren’t you?  Ugh.  Can’t you just let me wallow in my misery?”

“Nope.”

“Shut up, sunshine.”

“Sunshine?”

“I get the feeling that you’re going to be like this all the fucking time.  Fucking cheerful like the sun.  And I don’t even have curtains to block you out so that I can go back to sleep.”

“‘Cheerful like the sun?’”

“Don’t blame me for my figures of speech, Marco. I’m pretty under the influence right now. That’s like blaming owls for how much I suck at analogies.”  Marco chuckled.

“The sunshine thing has to be the most impressive extended metaphor I’ve ever heard from someone who’s partially made out of gelatin.”  He could hear the smile in Marco’s voice, but Jean was desperately trying to stay irate against the overwhelming force of optimism.  He failed.  He finally cracked a smile before letting out a slightly melodramatic groan.

“I didn’t even _know_ that there was a spell to turn someone’s bones to gelatin.”

“Neither did I.  And I’m a healer.”

“Not yet, _Intern_.” Marco snorted and may have hit him on the arm, but he couldn’t exactly feel or see it to be sure.

“I’m over half way there!”

“If you say so.”

“We’re going to stop arguing about this because my healer status has nothing to do with either Sasha or your wellbeing.” Marco remarked. “I think you need a bit more rest. You’re a little...irritable.”

“No shit I’m irritable. _Look at my fucking legs!_ ”

“You should see your arms.”

Jean sighed and closed his eyes, trying to be calm. _Just be calm_ …”You know, I’d love to. If only I could turn my head!”  And Marco?  The jerk just chuckled at him.

****  
  


“Okay,” Marco said. “Before I let you get some sleep, you need to take that Skele-Gro. You can have the frog afterwards to get rid of the taste.  I wasn’t kidding about the taste.  To put it lightly, It’s horrid in every possible way.”  Marco reached into the drawer of the nightstand and withdrew a long, thin bottle, seemingly made from a human spine. He uncorked it. A white fog spilled out and over Marco’s hand. He poured a generous amount into another small glass.

Marco held the glass to Jean’s mouth.  He cleared his throat and instructed, “Tell me when you’re ready.”

If Jean could’ve clenched his fists, he would’ve. “...Go!”

Marco tipped it over, spilling the ungodly concoction down Jean’s throat. He immediately began to retch, nearly throwing it up until Marco grabbed the chocolate frog by the arm, and yanked it out of the purple box. He tossed it into Jean’s mouth. “Here!”

Jean closed his mouth. It was a struggle to keep the frog within the confines of his oral cavity. However, after a short yet valiant battle, the frog was eventually chewed and swallowed, and Jean finally opened his mouth and began to pant. It was an understandably exhausting few minutes. “Fucking hell.”

“I’m sorry, Jean.”

“Why are you apologizing?  It’s not your fault that my bones were turned into gelatin.”

“No, but I feel bad that you have to drink that stuff.”  Jean gave a grunt of acknowledgement (or maybe thanks), and sighed.  He waited for the taste of the potion to fade a little before talking to Marco again.

“So when did you have to try this shit?  You seem familiar with its...god, I can’t even think of a word to say there.  It’s that awful.”  Marco laughed.

“I played quidditch until this year.  Ever since I took the internship, though, I had to give it up. Just didn’t have the time, you know?”

He began to put away the bottle of Skele-Gro and clean up the mess of empty boxes that sat on the nightstand, allowing himself to become swept up in nostalgia. “I was one of the Hufflepuff beaters.  During my first year playing, I looked away at the wrong time during one of the games. A bludger hit me in the forearm and sort of hovered. One of Ravenclaw’s beaters tried to hit it away so that someone could help me fly off the pitch.  The bludger didn’t like that very much, so it swerved and hit me again in the same spot.  My bones were so smashed and crumbled that Healer Jaeger just decided to regrow the bones from scratch.”

“Jesus. That bad?”

“Yeah, the bones were like a powder.”

“Ugh, such a waste.  Someone should have mixed it with water.  Bones make pretty good gelatin, you know?” Jean waited in silence for the second it took for the joke to sink in.  He was not disappointed.  Marco’s laugh rang around the infirmary.

“You have the weirdest sense of humor.”

“You laughed.”

“I didn’t say that _I_ have a normal sense of humor.”

“Very true.”

Marco grabbed a broom and started sweeping up. Jean was surprised he didn’t charm the broom to do it itself (at least, Jean assumed it was possible. He hadn’t learned such a charm, but it seemed like the kind of thing Marco would know), but Marco seemed peaceful.  He probably took solace in the cleaning.  He was probably the type to find it relaxing, like Professor Levi.

“Do you like cleaning?” May as well continue the small talk.

“Not so much cleaning itself as organization.  I like things to _be_ clean.  You?”

“Eh.” If Jean could shrug, this would be an ideal time to do it. “It depends on my mood.”

“So that’s a no?”  Marco teased.

Jean emitted a chuckle and said, “I guess not.”

“That’s okay, I can do it for you.”  Marco chuckled.  “At least for the time being.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make much of a mess like this, Marco.”

“That’s why I offered.”  Marco said.  He continued sweeping, humming as he went.  The tune was chirpy and high-pitched. Jean furrowed his brow and asked, “What _is_ that?”

 

Marco blinked. “Humming…?”

 

“Yeah, but like, what song is that?” Jean asked, and Marco immediately froze.

“It’s nothing.”

“It can’t be nothing if you were humming something.   _Embarrassed?_ ”

“Promise not to laugh?”

“I swear.”  Jean said solemnly.  Marco let out a slow deep breath and replied, “Wasabi Witchez new single,” his voice just above that of a mumble.

“ _Who?_ ”

Marco placed his hands on top of the handle of the broom and rocked back and forth. “They’re this really big Japanese group.”

“I’ve literally _never_ heard of them.”

“They’re not really big over here yet.”

“So they’re an allegedly huge...J-pop girls group?”

“They’re not a typical J-pop group.”  Marco jumped to their defense rather quickly.

“If you say so.  Maybe I’ll look them up when I regain use of my hands.  I’m not laughing, but I wouldn’t have pegged you as the J-Pop type.”

“They have a more electronic sound.”

“They’re still J-Pop.”

“Well...yeah.” There was no contesting that.  “But they’re really good. And all of their songs are in English.”

“Whatever you say, Marco.”  Jean smiled.  Their conversation after that lulled into companionable small talk about whatever.  Marco hummed (admittedly catchy) Japanese electronica pop during the lulls in conversation.

Their conversation continued until the door creaked open, and Sasha waltzed in with a great green, pinstripe paper bag. _Honeyduke’s Sweet Shoppe_ was emblazoned on the side, and it was literally overflowing with candies. “Hi, Jelly-Jean!”  Marco stood up from his chair besides Jean’s bed.

“I’ll leave you two alone.  I’m done for the morning anyway.  See you tomorrow, Jean.  Bye...uh…”

“Sasha.”

“Sasha!”  Marco smiled at her.  “Nice to meet you.  Jean talks about you a lot.  Sorry to run, but I’ve got to eat lunch before Transfiguration.  Professor Brezenka was _not_ happy last time I was late after training.”  Marco waved one last time before slipping out the door.

“Hi.” He tried to be serious, or at least indifferent to Sasha’s coming (not only did she eat all his candy, but she completely butchered his name), but he couldn’t help but smile at the massive bag of treats. “Aw, you didn’t have to get me any more candy.”

“I didn’t.” She grabbed a chair and sat by his bedside, digging into the bag. “I’m compensating.”

“...How much did you eat, exactly?” Jean blinked. “And how long was I out for you to eat all this?”

She took out a box of Every Flavor Beans, pouring two into her hand. She held one over Jean’s mouth and said, “On three?”

They did this every year, always on the first day of school. They played Russian Roulette with a box of beans, seeing who got the grossest flavor. “One...two...three!”

She dropped a bean into Jean’s mouth, who immediately sighed in relief. “Bouillabaisse.”

Sasha was awkwardly smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Not too bad. I think I got...envelope glue?”

“ _Dégoûtant_ ,” he spat. Sasha raised a single eyebrow with gusto, sliding up to Jean.

“ _Ooh, Jean. Talk French to me._ ” She batted her eyelashes with gusto.

Jean rolled his eyes with a playful smile.  In his most stereotypical accent, he obliged Sasha.  “You know I hate when you treat me like a...how you say...piece of meat, but I suppose...I can make an exception.  Just for you. _Hon hon hon hon, honhonhonhonhon_.”

“I don’t know, Jean.  I feel like something’s missing.”  Jean gasped.

“But of course!  Fetch me a baguette and my beret!  What kind of Frenchman am I?  They should revoke my citizenship for forgetting my baguette. _Desolee, mon chou_!”

They both erupted into laughter. It was a joke that came into being the first time Jean called her “ _completement débile_ ” last year. He usually never got so angry or flustered that he began to swear in French - at least in front of other people, anyway. It took Sasha spilling pumpkin juice all over his textbooks for that.

However, through all the laughter, the pain in his gut reappeared, and he tried to contain it for the sake of his health.

“Anyway.” They were both silent again. “When did... _this_ all happen?”

“It’s been about two days, but I was worried about you that whole first day.  You know that I eat when I’m worried.”

“If you ever turn down food, I’m going to find another planet to live on.  Impending apocalypse and all. There better be Fizzing Whizbees in there to make up for putting up with you all the time.”

“Oh, trust me,” Sasha laughed, “I got you dozens! I also got you mint chocolate chip Cauldron Cakes, peppermint toads, licorice wands, and some fudge!”

“And chocolate frogs?”

“Of course.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments as they crunched on their candy until Sasha asked, “So, your healer…?”

“Who, Marco?” Jean asked, his mouth full. Sasha nodded.

“He’s kind of cute,” Sasha noted, and took another bite of chocolate before asking, “Don’t you think so?”

“Are you asking to evaluate my healer’s cuteness?” Jean narrowed his eyes.

“Yes. On a scale from one to _hot damn_.”

“Seven, I guess?”

“So you think he’s cute!” Sasha gasped and nudged Jean’s arm. “Does this mean…?”

“No, for the millionth time.” Jean sighed. “I’m not gay. Just because I don’t obsess over girls instead of my grades or my career--”

Sasha interjected, “Except for Mikasa Ackerman.”

“Yeah…” Jean sighed, reminiscing on the beauty that was Mikasa. He had long since given up on her as a lost cause, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t admire her from afar.  “She’d be way hotter if she wasn’t with _Jaeger_.”

“You’d think a plant was hot if it hated Eren.”  Sasha pointed out.  Jean didn’t confirm or deny this.

“And about your cuteness scale, I’m being _objective_. The freckles give him extra points. I’m not going to lie to prove I’m straight.” Jean sniffed. “What can I say? I’m an honest man.”

“Wait, you have a thing for freckles?”

“That’s what you got out of that speech? I don’t _know_. I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Never thought about your freckle fetish? Personally, I thought you had a thing for Asian girls, given your thing for Mikasa--”

“I don’t have a freckle fetish. Or an Asian fetish.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!” Jean pouted, until he added, “About the Asian thing, I’m strictly Mikasasexual. I don’t have an explanation for the freckles.”

“See? _I knew it_! You have a thing for freckles!”

“I meant ‘yes I’m sure, but I can’t explain why Marco’s freckles give him extra points.’”

“I’m not convinced.”

“Sasha, _shut up_.”

“You’re an angry elf.”

“Why do you always call me that?”

“Watch more American muggle movies, my friend. They’re pure gold.”

“Sasha, with all the love and respect in my heart,” Jean drawled. “Can you please go away?  You’re getting on my fucking nerves.  Thank you for the candy, but I just want to take a nap now.”  Sasha smiled victoriously.   _Why the fuck does she look victorious? She didn’t win anything_.  Sasha stood up from the foot of Jean’s bed.

“No problem, Jelly-Jean! I have to eat lunch again anyway.”  She swooped down and kissed his cheek.  “I’ll visit again later.”

“ _Again?_ ” Jean furrowed his brow. “You have the eating schedule of a hobbit.”

“Bye!” Sasha waved as she left the hospital room, avoiding his criticism.

“Bye.”  Jean called after her. There was a mountain of wrappers on his nightstand, but when he went to sweep them into the trash bin until he remembered. _That’s right. No hands_. Jean flopped back onto his pillow as best as he could considering his limited range of motion.  With a sigh, he shut his eyes, and fell asleep.  As good a time for a nap as any.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Corey: So this story is really important to both Devon and I, as this is the first time we realized that it might be fun to collaborate on a story. Our writing has improved so much since we started this back in...May? Anyway, it's really dear to us and we hope you guys like it as well. My tumblr is corey5268.tumblr.com if you want to get in touch with me, or feel free to comment! We'd love to hear from you guys!
> 
> Devon: Oh my god this took literally forever but I’m so proud of it. I have a tumblr so... at-tofpeople.tumblr.com
> 
> Corey: Devon was like 3/4 asleep when she told me what to put in the endnotes, so perhaps we'll have her coherent input someday ;)
> 
> Oh, and for anyone who's interested, Wasabi Witchez is based on a real Japanese group called FEMM. They're really good, for anyone who's curious. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwfNPtnPl4E


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